Let Go, But Never Forget
by ihadtoputitsomewhere
Summary: Sciles-centric fic. Stiles has another inception-type dream, Scott is there to pull him through it.


Stiles sat in the back of the chemistry room, scribbling idly in his notebook as the teacher lectured the class. Time seemed to be moving at an incredibly slow pace, making one day feel like a week.

"There are a few more elements I would like to talk to you about. The first one is Potassium. On the periodic table, it is represented by the letter "K," and it's atomic number is 19." The teacher explained.

Stiles cringed a bit at the backstory associated with this element. He was haunted by memories, even now, after all this time.

"The next element is Iodine. Iodine is a Halogen, represented by the letter "I." Its atomic number is 53."

Stiles squeezed his hands into fists, trying to fight the tears that brimmed his eyes. He stared at his paper and breathed shakily through his nose.

"Lastly, we have Radium. Radium is an Alkaline Earth Metal represented by the letters "Ra." Its atomic mass is 88." The teacher began to laugh, softly at first, but them loudly and maniacally. It sounded evil. "Stiles…" the teacher growled. "Do you know what word is created when all three elements are put together?"

Stiles shut his eyes and shook his head. "No…" he whimpered. "Not again. Please—"

"I know you know it Stiles. What is it?" the teacher spat. He repeated himself, over and over, each time louder than the last. "What is it? What is it? WHAT IS IT STILES?" he bellowed, shaking the entire classroom.

Stiles buried his head in his hands and whispered, "Why are you doing this to me?"

"To win…the game." The teacher spoke.

_No. No. It's impossible…_

Stiles' head shot up. He scanned the room to find the source of the voice. All of his classmates had vanished, and he was all alone. Then he saw him.

The Nogitsune stood hunched over in the corner of the room. It's black lips and silver teeth brought back flooding memories to Stiles' mind. He saw himself hurting the people he loved. Allison's death played over and over. He saw Scott, looking at him with so much pain in his eyes, so much hurt, so much sorrow. He couldn't take it, he couldn't do this again. Stiles clamped his hands over his ears and screamed. Hot tears streamed down his cheeks and into his mouth but still, he screamed. He was shaking and crying and confused and terrified. Then, as if someone had flipped a switch, everything when dark.

It was pitch black. The silence was so loud it hurt Stiles' ears. It was so cold that Stiles' entire body felt as if it were on fire. Stiles took one step forward. Then another. Then another, and suddenly he was falling. He was falling in the dark. He couldn't see anything. He couldn't hear anything. He couldn't feel anything but the wind as it whipped around him. Stiles opened his mouth to scream but no sound came out.

Then he hit the ground.

Light exploded around him. He was dead, he had to be. But something was different. He could feel the hard ground underneath him, though he was surrounded by blinding white walls. The noise came flooding back, and it seemed as though every single person in the state of California was yelling in his ear at once. It was deafening. Stiles only knew one way to silence the noise, so he screamed too.

Stiles woke up to the sound of his own voice. At first, he didn't recognize anything. He had no idea as to where he was or how he got there. But as his mind caught up to his body, memories slowly came back. He recognized the couch he was laying on as Scott's. He sat up and looked around the room. All of the lights were on, and Scott was running towards him. It was weird, it was like… like everything was moving in slow motion. There was so much going on in Stiles' head. He wasn't sure if he was warm or if he was freezing. He didn't know if what was happening right now was real or if he was still dreaming. He wasn't sure if he was 100% Stiles. That's what terrified him the most; the uncertainty.

Suddenly Scott was at his side. "What happened? Stiles, what happened? Are you okay? Stiles, talk to me, man. What's going on?"

Stiles stared at his best friend with a look of total confusion. He couldn't string words into sentences, so he just shook his head. The world around him was moving in slow motion, and everything was blurry. Stiles tried to stand up but couldn't find his footing. Scott caught him before he hit the ground, and slowly lowered him back onto the couch.

"Stiles, do you know where you are?"

Stiles nodded.

"Do you know who I am?"

Stiles nodded.

"Can you tell me what happened?"

Stiles' eyes widened and he shook his head. His expression went from to confused to absolutely terrified in a matter of seconds. Scott placed both hands on either one of Stiles' shoulders and held him steady.

"It's okay. It was just a nightmare. It wasn't real."

"He—he was there. He was there again. We were alone, like how it used to be. I was at school and then he was there. He—with the chemistry room and Kira a-and then I was falling and it was cold. Scott it was so…cold. I-it felt like I was on fire and then th—they were screaming. They were… they were all screaming. I didn't know what to do." Stiles' voice broke as he rambled. He was trying to explain what happened even as hot tears fell from his amber eyes. His voice lowered to almost a whisper. "I hurt people, Scott. They're dead. I didn't want to do it. I di—I didn't want to." Stiles sobbed. "I didn't want to."

He let out a whimper, a sound so broken and heartbreaking that it made Scott want to cry along with him. Scott held Stiles as he cried, whispering sweet nothings into his ear and rubbing circles on his back. He tried to take the pain away, but nothing happened. This was not the sort of pain that could be fixed by the touch of a werewolf. It was the sort of pain that could only be diminished by the touch of a best friend, of family. So Scott held him tight until the cries and shouts of sorrow became silent tears and sniffling. The person Scott held tight in his embrace was so gaunt and feeble. It broke him to see his best friend like this, tortured by his own memories and haunted by what once was. Scott shifted and sat down on the couch beside Stiles, who almost immediately, without hesitation, curled up into Scott. Scott enveloped Stiles in his arms and rested his cheek on top of Stiles' head.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I hurt people." Stiles whispered. "I'm sorry I hurt her."

It was obvious to Scott that by "her," Stiles was talking about Allison.

"It's okay." Scott spoke gently. "It's okay, I…I forgive you. I forgive you Stiles."

Stiles let out a shaky sigh of relief against Scott's chest. He closed his eyes and concentrated on matching his breathing to Scott's.

"I can't promise you that everything is going to go back to the way it was. Things are going to change. Things _have_ changed. But that's okay. I'm here, Stiles. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. I can promise you that much."

"I can't make you do that."

"You're not making me do anything."

"Scott, everyone around me gets hurt, okay? I'm like…I'm like a walking time bomb. Only I never go off. I never explode. The people I care about are always the ones who get hurt, never me. Maybe…if I'm alone…there won't be as much collateral damage." Stiles paused and held his breath. He tried desperately to keep the tears at bay, but at this point they were inevitable. "There's a quote, in a book by some guy about how the main character is like a grenade. And one day, she'll explode. She said that it's her job to minimize the casualties. And now, after everything that's happened, I finally realize what she meant. Scott, it's my job to minimize the casualties and—"

"Don't…" Scott interrupted. "Don't insult me by calling me your job. I am not your job. I'm your family. And family protects family. Pack protects pack. That's not a job to me. That's who I am. I'm not going anywhere. Because sooner or later, the eye will pass. The winds will kick up. And you aren't tethered to anything. I need you, Stiles. And despite what your mind is telling you, you need me too. No questions asked, no matter what. Whatever you need, I'll be here."

"Scott—"

"Stiles, please don't fight me on this. I'm sticking with you whether you like it or not."

Stiles buried his face in the fabric of Scott's Henley and smiled ever so slightly.

"You're one crazy son-of-a-bitch, you know that?" Stiles teased.

Scott laughed. "Takes one to know one."

Stiles yawned and mumbled something, but all Scott caught was, "…tired."

"Then sleep. I'm not going anywhere."

Stiles shook his head. "Pillow. Can't sleep without my pillow."

"Then I'll be your new pillow."

"Huh?"

"Use me as a pillow. Try to get some sleep."

"Are y—are you sure?" Stiles asked hesitantly. He looked up at Scott, who shot him a lazy smile.

"Yes, I'm sure. Close your eyes. Get some rest. I'll be here in case anything happens."

Stiles nodded slowly. "…'kay." He said sleepily. Stiles' eyes suddenly felt too heavy, and as much as he wanted to, he couldn't keep them open.

He drifted off, floating to somewhere where nothing could touch him. He was safe and strong and sure. And that's all Stiles really wanted, to be sure. Because that's what terrifies him the most…the uncertainty.

The uncertainty that sits in his chest everyday when his dad straps a gun to his waist and pins a badge to his chest and leaves for work, never knowing if he'll come home. The uncertainty that stabs him in the heart every time Scott shifts because Stiles never knows if one day, Scott will take it too far and get himself killed.

But for now, he will rest. He will allow himself to float. He will allow himself to drift. And he'll deal with tomorrow when it came.


End file.
